Cherish Applebottoms's Arc

Chapter 1 of 11

Cherish Applebottoms wanted one thing: a building she could seal, defend, and call her own. She had spent three days scouting the swamp for it, crowbar in hand, backpack heavy with canned food. Now she couldn't stop running long enough to knock on a single door. The dog would not quit. It had caught her scent an hour ago and never lost it. She glanced back and hated what she saw. Tentacles grew from its rotting spine and lashed the air like whips. Its ribs showed through torn hide. It ran faster than any living dog should, and it ran straight at her. She cut through mud between rotted trees. Her boots sank. Every place she wanted to hide, the dog would follow. It would drag her scent right to the door and trap her inside. Ahead she saw a weathered two-story house. Broken windows, a sagging porch, a rusted car in the weeds. Spiderwebs covered it like nets. It was exactly the kind of place she needed. And leading a monster to it would ruin it. Cherish stopped and turned. She raised the crowbar. If she couldn't outrun the thing, she would end it here, before it learned where she slept. The dog lunged. A tentacle wrapped her ankle and yanked. She fell hard in the mud and swung. The crowbar cracked into its skull. The dog only snarled and climbed onto her chest. Its jaws snapped inches from her throat. She jammed the crowbar sideways into its mouth and pushed. Her arms shook. She was losing. A gunshot split the swamp. The dog's head burst apart. Its body dropped, twitching, tentacles curling in the mud. Cherish shoved the weight off and gasped. A man stepped from behind the rusted car. He wore a plaid shirt under a stuffed tactical vest, fingerless gloves, a beard streaked with sweat. He kept his pistol up and aimed at the twitching corpse, not at her, but not fully away either. "Should've dropped it a mile back," he said. "You led it right to my house." Cherish climbed to her feet, crowbar ready. "Your house." "Marcus Flint." He didn't lower the gun. "Me and my family were doing fine quiet. Then you came screaming through the trees with that thing on your tail." He nodded at the porch. Behind a cracked window, a small face watched, then ducked away. Cherish looked at the house she had wanted for herself. Now someone already lived in it, armed, with people to protect. He had just saved her life. He did not look glad about it. "That shot carried," Marcus said. He glanced toward the treeline, where other things would have heard it. "Every dead thing in this swamp knows where we are now. Both of us." He finally lowered the pistol. "So you'd better come inside. Fast."